


A Practical Guide to Sleepwalking

by certaintendencies



Series: The Wooing Verse [3]
Category: Glee RPF, StarKid Productions RPF
Genre: M/M, Sleepwalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:09:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/certaintendencies/pseuds/certaintendencies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sleepwalking, mirror sex, and possibly horses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Practical Guide to Sleepwalking

Chris had warned him about the sleep walking thing the second time they fell asleep together. It was a whispered confession, soft and barely there in the darkness as he slotted a leg in between Joey’s, and Joey didn’t think much of it at all.

The first time Joey saw it happen, they were at Chris’s house. He woke up in the pitch black of Chris’s room, confused as to why his pillow was moving. Chris slipped slowly out from under him, mumbling, and when Joey fumbled around the nightstand for his phone and turned it on, facing the screen out to illuminate the room, Chris was sitting on the edge of the bed, head cocked and staring at the wall.

 

“Chris?”

Chris had turned his head, facing Joey without looking at him, a soft smile on his face.

“Come back to bed.”

Chris nodded, allowed himself to be pulled down and tucked against Joey’s chest. He snored contentedly into the collar of Joey’s t-shirt while Joey swept his hands across Chris’s back, rhythmic and warm, until he fell asleep too.

The next time, Joey found Chris at the counter by the fridge, eating a bowl of Cheerios. He didn’t realize Chris wasn’t awake until he finished, put his spoon in the trash, and then set the bowl on top of the fridge before calmly walking back to the bedroom. Joey had stared after him for a moment, grinning, and then rescued the spoon, leaving the bowl as evidence and hurrying back to join Chris in the bed.

There have been other incidents, of course, like the time the whole house woke up to Brian yowling after Chris stepped on his tail by the back door, and the time Joey awoke to find the bed cold and Chris browsing patio furniture on Amazon.com. (Chris doesn’t have a patio. They strung the hammock up in the workout room; Joey likes to ogle Chris’s forearms while he’s running.)

This time, Joey wakes up when the bathroom light comes on, the glaring yellow of it spilling over the bed.

“Babe?” Joey calls, blinking in confusion.

There’s no reply, and he pushes himself out of the bed, rubbing his eyes as he shuffles to the bathroom.

Chris is standing in front of the mirror, head tilted in a telltale way and eyes staring through his reflection. There’s a toothbrush gripped tightly in one hand, and a tube of Icy Hot in the other.

“Chris,” Joey says softly, one hand brushing down the length of Chris’s arm and grabbing the tube, gently working it free of Chris’s fingers. “Hey, no, come here.” Pulling Chris to him, Joey soothes the little unhappy noises he makes by wrapping his arms around Chris’s waist and tucking his chin over Chris’s shoulder. “You’re okay.”

“Brush.”

“You already did, remember?”

“Hmm.”

Joey watches Chris in the mirror, his face open and relaxed like it never is when he’s awake. His hair is tousled, sticking up in the front higher than seems feasible. He lets the brush clatter to the countertop and sets his hands over Joey’s, tilting his head to the side and letting Joey nuzzle in closer.

“I’m not supposed to wake you up,” Joey whispers. “Pretty sure that’s bad news bears for sleepwalkers.”

Chris grins, sudden and sweet, and his hands start to move, little jerky movements, jolting in time with his twitching lips.

Joey watches, rapt, as Chris dreams a conversation, half-acting it out. He gives a cut-off, breathy laugh and turns his head, facing Joey but not quite looking at him.

“I love you,” Joey says, because it’s true, and it’s clearly his turn to say something but he has no idea what they’re talking about.

Chris keeps smiling, gives a nod. “Hmm.” Turning back to the mirror, he relaxes against Joey, head dropping back and adam’s apple bobbing. “Love you.”

Joey laughs, holding him tighter and leaning from side to side.

Fingers tighten over Joey’s, not by much, but it’s a change, and Chris tilts his head. “Dancin’?”

“You wanna dance?”

Chris’s hips wiggle, shimmying clumsily, and he sways in Joey’s arms.

“You never wanna dance,” Joey murmurs, tucking his mouth against Chris’s neck and rocking with him, watching his smile in the mirror. “You know, you’re gorgeous.” He says the words softly, lifting his lips from Chris’s skin for just a moment before dropping them back.

“Mmm,” Chris responds, head lolling to the side as he gives an aborted little skip that shuffles him half a step sideways. “Horses.”

It’s probably the laugh that does it. Joey instinctively buries his huff of laughter in the warm skin of Chris’s neck, and Chris gives him a shudder in return, blinking rapidly. He stops moving, and his hands go stiff where they’re pressed against Joey’s, and then all of a sudden the face Joey’s watching in the mirror is watching him back.

“…Joey?”

“’S me.” Joey starts to sway again once he ascertains that Chris is fine.

Chris looks at him, then around at the bathroom, the corners of his mouth turning down. “Fuck’re we doing in the bathroom?”

Joey snorts and then presses three kisses to Chris’s neck, one after another in a line. “Sleep dancin’.”

“Dirty dancing?” Chris’s hands squeeze Joey’s, pushing them tighter against him. “This isn’t exactly a waltz.” He seems to make a decision, and starts to move with Joey, hips rocking gently. “Were you taking advantage of my altered state?”

“Sort of a back-to-front middle school shuffle really. No dirty dancing for us.”

Chris pouts, meeting Joey’s gaze and wiggling a little closer, arching his back until his ass is set firmly against Joey. “Not even a little bit?”

“Uh uh,” Joey says softly, breath hitching when Chris rolls his hips. He walks his fingers along the waistband of Chris’s pajama pants, thumb slipping under Chris’s shirt to brush against hot, soft skin. “You said – _unh_ , Chris,  _shit_  – you said something about horses.”

Chris stops grinding his ass back to glare at Joey in the mirror. “I did not.”

“You did,” Joey laughs, kissing his insistence into Chris’s jaw and then farther down, tugging aside the collar of his t-shirt to suck lightly at his shoulder.

“Ugh, just- take it off,” Chris says, nudging Joey’s hands away and then lifting the bottom hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his torso, his head and shoulders, letting it fall to the floor and then trying to twist around in Joey’s embrace.

“Nuh uh, come on. Turn around and look.” Spinning Chris back around, Joey steadies him and traces his fingers up Chris’s ribs. “Look at you.”

“You too,” Chris demands, reflected eyes bright as he reaches behind himself and flicks at Joey’s shirt. Joey tugs it off in a second, pressing his bare chest against Chris’s back as soon as he can.

“How’s that?”

Chris hums, leaning back into Joey’s embrace with a little smile. “Much better.”

Grinning, Joey nips at Chris’s ear and rocks into him, dipping his fingertips past the waistband of Chris’s pajamas as he shivers. “You gotta keep watchin’, kay?” he murmurs, feeling Chris’s shudders run through them both. “Just keep your eyes open and watch.”

“’Kay,” Chris says breathlessly, his cock already tenting the front of his pajamas, thick and curving down under the flannel.

“You really are gorgeous.” Joey slips his hand all the way under Chris’s waistband, tracing his fingers along his cock, teasing, until Chris thrusts forward, insistent. His eyes look drugged in the mirror, glassed over and weighted down with heavy lids as soon as Joey’s fingers wrap around his cock.

Joey’s knuckles drag against the inside of Chris’s pants, conspicuous and obscene as he wrings his fist along Chris’s cock, grip tight and rhythm steady as Chris’s half-lidded eyes track the movements in the mirror.

“You wanna see?”

“Yeah, I wanna-  _fuck_! I wanna see,” Chris pants, fingers digging into Joey’s arms briefly before flitting away to fumble shakily at his drawstring.

Any thought Joey might have entertained of drawing it out goes up in smoke the moment Chris shoves his pants down his hips.

“Oh shit,” Joey breathes, tightening his grip on Chris’s cock and splaying his other hand flat against Chris’s shuddering stomach. The way they look, fitted together and gasping, the most vivid thing he’s ever seen under the stark lighting, is enough to punch the air from Joey’s lungs.

“Remember,” Chris says, lips red, wet, slick from being sucked between his teeth. “The first time you touched me? Got me off?”

Of course he does.

“You held me like this, behind me, worked me so hard.”

Joey sets his mouth against Chris’s neck, watching the tendons in it stress and shift beneath his skin, watching the way his lips form around the corded muscle. He rolls his hips into Chris’s ass. “You wanted my hands,” Joey recalls, peppering kisses up Chris’s neck and then mouthing at his ear, smiling at the way Chris jerks at the sensation, his whole body shivering.

“Fucking love your hands,” Chris gasps, fucking into Joey’s grip and then grinding back against him.

Joey catches Chris’s eyes flutter shut in the mirror and scrapes his teeth down Chris’s neck to his shoulder, biting down, quick and sharp, when he gets there.

“Mm, whassat for?” Chris slurs, hips still rolling as his eyes blink open.

“You’re supposed to watch.” Joey snaps his hips forward. He quickens the pace of his hand, curling his palm relentlessly around the slick head of Chris’s cock, and grins at the moan it gets him. The whole of Chris’s torso is flushed red now, and the muscles in his stomach shiver under the pressure of Joey’s hand, clenching and hitching soft again before shuddering up tight. The dips and grooves of his chest catch stark shadows from the harsh light above them, and Joey can see his throat move when he swallows, the shifting tendons in his neck.

When he meets Chris’s eyes again they’re desperate and wet, lashes fluttering low across them. His hips go wild, bucking without rhythm into Joey’s grip and jerking back out again. Whimpers catch dryly in his throat, hitched along with stuttering breaths as his chest heaves and his throat works.

“You have to watch,” Joey whispers, draping himself closer and rubbing their stubbled cheeks together, rutting through his clothes against the hot, soft curve of Chris’s ass as he tugs and twists and slicks his hand over Chris’s cock. “Watch as long as you can. You should see, you should get to see how amazing you look when you come.”

“J-Joey, I-”

“Yeah.” Joey turns to scrape his teeth down Chris’s jaw, watching in the mirror out of the corner of his eye as Chris shudders and bucks and arches against him. He comes with his mouth and his eyes open, gasping, hips pumping, nails digging into Joey’s forearms. He isn’t watching himself, though, he’s watching Joey, reflected gaze locked on Joey’s as his cock pulses. Come streaks over the countertop, drips over Joey’s knuckles.

“Fuck.” Chris gives a few more half-hearted thrusts as Joey wrings the last of it out of him, fingers messy and sliding slick over his cock. Slumping into Joey’s arms, Chris lets his head loll back, resting it on Joey’s shoulder. “ _Fuck_.”

Joey bites his lip and then turns to nip at Chris’s ear, trying to distract him from the way he can’t help but grind against his ass.

“Uhn,” Chris manages, jerking in Joey’s arms. “Take your pants off, idiot.”

“Oh my god, I was being polite.” Joey lets go of Chris with one arm, working his pants down awkwardly and then slotting his cock between the cheeks of Chris’s ass, shoving in close with an embarrassing grunt. “Jesus, you’re hot.”

Chris snorts, and Joey watches his throat jump with it in the mirror.

“I mean,” Joey pants, thrusting again, wincing and twitching at the friction. “In general, but also, like, temperature wise.” He is. Agonizingly hot and soft against Joey as they push together, clumsy and perfect.

Chris unwraps himself from Joey’s grip and leans forward, resting his elbows on the counter and peering up at Joey in the mirror as he spreads his legs as far as the pants around his knees will let him. “One thermometer joke and you’re on your own.”

“Can I do a mirror pun?” Joey asks, fingers slipping around Chris’s hips, pulling him into his next thrust. “’Cause I can really see myself doing a mirror pun.”

Chris groans into his arms, pushing back sharply. “You’re still really sexy, is the thing. Like,  _unh_ , you say stuff like that and I still want you to fuck the shit out of me. I h- _uh_ -have a problem.”

“You’re so sweet.” Joey bites his lip and rolls his hips.

“I am, don’t deny it.”

“You are,” Joey agrees without hesitation, precome smearing and cock throbbing against the hot clench of Chris’s ass. The mostly dry friction has Joey on a knife-edge, a dangerous, sharp ache in his balls and a twisting coil of heat in the pit of his stomach.

One of Chris’s hands shoots back, grabbing blindly for Joey’s shoulder, sliding up to his hair and pulling him down for a sloppy, sideways kiss. Joey groans into Chris’s mouth, a bright, piercing throb starting where Chris is yanking on his hair and shocking through the rest of him. He comes, breaking away from Chris’s mouth with a gasp and spilling hotly between them, burying his face in Chris’s hair.

“Fuuuck,” Joey moans, tingling from his scalp to his toes. He lifts up, twisting a fist tightly up the length of his cock, and looks down with a smile. Smearing his fingers through the mess on Chris’s lower back, he pushes it down, paints hot, pink skin with it. “We should probably take a shower,” he says reluctantly. “I came all over you.”

“S’okay,” Chris sighs, standing up. His cock bobs between his thighs, flushed red and still mostly hard. “I came on your toothbrush.”

Sure enough, Joey sweeps his gaze across the counter and sees it, a few drops of pearly white clinging to the bristles of his purple toothbrush. “That’s amazing,” he declares, assessing the distance between the toothbrush and where Chris’s cock was, held fast in Joey’s grip.

“You’re so weird.”

“You like it, Super Sperm. Take a shower with me.”

“Kiss me first.”

Joey does.

For a moment, Joey wonders what they must look like, two grown men kissing in a come-streaked bathroom, pants tangled around their knees. Then, Chris fists a hand into the back of Joey’s hair, pulling gently, and Joey forgets anything else.

***

“What’s my computer doing on?” Chris asks as they shuffle, sleepy and damp, back into the bedroom.

“That’s all you, babe,” Joey declares, belly flopping onto the bed. “You turned off the one click shopping, right?”

“Yeah, but I… I bought a motivational poster? No,” Chris trails off, clicking quickly.

Joey rolls over and looks up, squinting at the screen.

“I bought a  _set_  of motivational horse posters,” Chris says after a moment.

Grinning, Joey watches as Chris brings up a photo of some horses running in a field. “What’s it say?”

“Something about spirit,” Chris sighs. His chin is resting in one of his palms, fingers curled up to cover half his face. “There are six others. They come framed.” He sounds utterly defeated, which Joey finds an amusing reaction to have when faced with motivational posters.

“Come to bed,” Joey says, holding his arms out as Chris closes his laptop. “You can give them to Darren and he’ll have to pretend to like them. We can make sure he puts them up all over his room.”

Chris crawls in next to him, tucking himself into Joey’s side with a small smile. “I love you.”

“Love you too, even if you are a secret nighttime horse enthusiast.”

Burying his snort in Joey’s collarbone, Chris smacks him on the chest.

“Don’t be ashamed of who you are,” Joey insists, sweeping his palms up and down Chris’s back. “We can make it work. We’ll get a saddle, maybe. A riding crop.”

“You wish.” Chris slips a knee between Joey’s, an arm resting heavily across his waist.

Sighing happily, Joey lets his eyes fall shut, darkness and the rhythm of Chris’s even breathing lulling him quickly off to sleep.


End file.
